Angels to Watch Over You
by AlecTowser
Summary: A mini-series featuring the UNIT Family, and some otherworldly observers. Each chapter is a standalone one-shot, focusing on one character and one fanfic100prompt. Chapter 8: The Doctor (Third); "079. When?" NOW COMPLETE.
1. John Benton

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.**

**Author's Note: These stories don't need to be read in any particular order, as they can all relatively stand alone. **

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Every spring, John Benton made a trip to visit his brother's grave. He always brought flowers and told stories about what sorts of things he'd been up to (censored appropriately if other people were around), and every year, for the most part it was the same. He was there to reminisce and grieve, and no one ever disturbed him.

This year, however…something felt off. He wasn't sure what it was, but Benton had an uncomfortable sensation of being watched. He'd looked all around, but had seen no one, apart from one or two people that had come by to pay their respects.

Chris had been buried in a smaller cemetery, one that you could easily see the entire expanse of just by standing in one spot and turning. There was nowhere that anyone could possibly hide; just rows of various-shaped gravestones, crosses, and stone angels in various poses marking burial places.

Maybe it was just paranoia, he reasoned. He was so used to having to deal with abnormal situations on a day-to-day basis, that doing something as commonplace as this was making him suspicious.

He shrugged, and prepared to leave. But what he failed to notice as he walked out of the cemetery and back to his car was that he was being watched…a pair of hands had lowered from one stone angel's eyes.


	2. Jo Grant

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.**

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Jo Grant eyed the collection of figurines she had been bequeathed by her late aunt with distaste. Most of them were relatively normal; children reading, dancing bears, sailboats, and the like, but she had no idea what she was going to do with them. She certainly had no room in her tiny flat for them.

She supposed she could try to sell them, but her aunt had been very insistent in her will that the set remain together. Jo couldn't understand why; there was no real cohesive theme to them, but if her aunt wanted them together, then together they would have to stay.

The only trouble now would be to find someone who would not only want them all, but would be willing to put up with some of the uglier figures in the set: scowling schoolteachers, some badly-done ones of policemen, a hunter holding up a stag's head, and some inexplicable ones that looked like an odd cross between an angel and a demon, ready to lash out at someone. The last ones in particular made her feel rather uneasy, and she couldn't help but wonder where her aunt had gotten those from, and _why_ anyone would want them.

Jo shuddered and let go of the figure of the little girl she had been touching, and turned away to start writing an advert for the collection. The sooner those figurines were out of her possession, the happier she would be.


	3. Mike Yates

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.**

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Mike Yates had always loved Christmas. In particular, he loved taking walks around London during the Christmas season, just to see all the festive lights and carollers everywhere. It was a nice reminder as to why they at UNIT did what they did; to allow people to continue to enjoy times like this.

He continued his walk towards Trafalgar Square, looking forward to seeing the lighting of the tree. Last year, he'd unfortunately been on duty and thus had missed it, but this year he was determined to see the tree.

As Mike approached the Square, he thought he saw some decorations around the base of the tree, which wasn't all too common. When the crowds had thinned and he could finally get closer to the tree, he noticed that the decorations were in fact four angel statues.

There was one at each corner of the fence surrounding the tree. There were two holding trumpets in opposite corners, but what intrigued Mike was that the other two appeared to be hiding their faces. It seemed rather depressing for something like this to be displayed this time of year.

He took a look around, and found a plaque at the base of one of the trumpeted angels - _Donated by Mrs. Katherine Isbister_, which explained why the statues were there, but not why two of them looked so out of place.

After another close look at the statues, he shrugged it off and headed back the way he came - some of the other UNIT soldiers were meeting at a local pub for a pint and darts, and he'd agreed to meet them there. Soon, the odd statues had been forgotten.


	4. Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.**

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The Brigadier didn't attend church regularly, but he attended services for Easter and Christmas at the local Anglican church every year. He was no longer going with Fiona and Kate, but surprisingly, he wasn't all that bothered by things like that anymore.

After the Easter Sunday service had finished, rather than leave right away, he decided to wander the grounds. The weather was fair for once and this particular church boasted some spectacular gardens round the back of the building during this time of year.

As he wandered through the gardens, he admired the view, both of the plant life and of the impressive statues that had been given to the church over the years. There were depictions of Christ on the cross, the Virgin Mary, and numerous angels all scattered throughout the gardens strategically - some with serene faces and arms outstretched, and others that looked as if they were crying.

On his way back, he noticed some of the statues closest to the chapel had been defaced. Some had writing all over them, and some had had dirt, broken branches and other debris tossed onto them. One angel statue in particular had a large branch that had been placed into its outstretched arms to look like a club.

He merely gave a long-suffering sigh, removed the branch, and threw it away. _Honestly - youth is wasted on the young…_ he sighed as he returned to the front of the church.


	5. Liz Shaw

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.**

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"I've had it! I can't work with that insufferable man any longer." Dr. Elizabeth Shaw threw up her hands in exasperation as she stormed into Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart's office. "Brigadier, I know I told you I'd stay until the end of the month, but I can't work with him anymore. He's being utterly ridiculous."

"Good afternoon, Miss Shaw. How nice to see you, too," the Brigadier remarked drily. "Please, do come in."

"Brigadier, I can't work with him. He doesn't treat me as though I were an associate; more like an errand girl. 'Hold this for me, Liz' and 'Be a dear and fetch my spanner, would you, Liz?', as though I weren't a fully qualified Doctor myself. Several times over, I might add. I'd like to move my resignation date forward to today, if possible."

"That can be arranged. Are you sure we can't convince you to stay around longer, though? I'm sure the Doctor will miss you and your knowledge greatly."

She laughed bitterly. "Miss my knowledge? Don't be ridiculous, Brigadier. All he wants is someone to pass him his tools when he works on that car of his, to hold his test tubes, and tell him just how brilliant he is."

The Brigadier raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"See? You know it's true, too. Now, I'm very sorry, but I just can't stay here any longer. I have an actual career waiting for me back at Cambridge; one that doesn't involve my life being at risk from alien intruders on a daily basis." And with that, she left the office.

As she walked out of UNIT HQ, she didn't look back. In doing so, she completely missed the two stone angels that flanked the gate, their hands covering their eyes.


	6. Sarah Jane Smith

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.**

**Author's Note: See end of work for notes.**

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Her Aunt Lavinia had always told Sarah Jane there were angels watching out for her. When she had gotten old enough to start questioning things, she asked why they hadn't looked out for her parents. Her aunt hadn't been able to answer that one, but told her that all things happened for a reason.

As time passed, she was less certain of her aunt's belief in guardian angels, but she still believed that something must be looking out for her - there was no probable way that she could have survived many of the things she had experienced throughout her life without some kind of otherworldly intervention.

She had somehow managed to not ride her bike into that oncoming speeding car when she had been six, to not be approached by any threatening strangers when she had decided to run away from home at the age of ten, to not slip off the same pier that her friend Andrea had when she was thirteen, to not get picked up by some unsavoury men the first time she'd gotten drunk at a club when she was eighteen… the list went on.

Sarah Jane sighed. Maybe there was some truth to what her aunt said. She looked up at the photograph of an ornate angel statue that looked to be crying that was hung up on her wall. She had been given it by her uncle years ago from one of his distant trips, and could never seem to find the heart to get rid of it. It was beautiful, in a sad kind of way, she supposed.

Although, hadn't the angel been standing _beside_ the tree when she'd gotten the photo - not in front of it?

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**Note: So, this makes 43 prompts I've written for/posted so far. Because I'm nearing the pivotal halfway mark, here's an offer for all you people who may be reading these.**

**For the first five (or so; depends on the response I get) people who send me a message/review/comment with a request (for UNIT!era fic), I will write you a story for one of my remaining prompts. The stories may be long or short, depending on how my inspiration works, but I will write them. (Note, however, that I will not write smut or slash.)**

**(If I hear nothing, then I'll continue to write/post as I have been doing. Just thought I'd give you all an opportunity to share in the awesomeness that is stories for UNIT, the Third Doctor, and Classic Doctor Who in general.)**


	7. The Master

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.**

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The Master hadn't intended to stay in this small backwater village for long; he only wanted to pick up some relics from the local museum for future plans and be on his way.

The theft itself had been childishly simple; with the right kind of motivation (hypnotism), the curator had been more than willing to let "Professor Retsam" borrow the items he needed. However, as he walked past an old, dilapidated house to return to where he had left his TARDIS, he felt something out of the ordinary.

It hadn't been much; just a fleeting touch, but he could sense a time distortion of some kind emanating from the house. If it hadn't been for the oddity, he wouldn't have even given the house a passing glance. As it was, he was curious - were the Time Lords doing anything in this area? Was it the Doctor and his rattletrap of a TARDIS? If not, was it something he could use to his advantage?

Trek to his TARDIS briefly abandoned, the Master approached the old house, and allowed himself a small smile as he felt the time distortion growing stronger the closer he got to the building. It didn't feel like the Time Lords' doing - maybe he could use this disturbance if he harnessed the energy…but as he was about to enter the building, he remembered that he would need equipment from his TARDIS to examine it properly.

His mind busy thinking of new plans, he walked briskly back to his TARDIS, completely missing the feral-looking statue that stood just inside the door of the house, arms outstretched as if to grab the Time Lord.


	8. The Doctor

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.**

**Author's Note: I was **_**trying**_** to keep these all between 200-300 words, but this one (slightly) got away from me. The Doctor just wanted to be bigger and better, I suppose. :P And with that, we've reached the end of the ATWOY stories. I hope you all enjoyed reading this little mini-series as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

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It was another late night of repairs for the Doctor, and he had left the lab briefly to appropriate some tools he needed from the Supply department, knowing no one would be there to deny him the items at this hour.

He smirked as he found the very items he needed (which the Supply officer had pointedly told him they _didn't_ have earlier), and was preparing to leave and lock up again behind him when he heard a sound.

At first he thought it might be a mouse, but then he heard it again, and it distinctly was not the scurrying of any kind of rodent. It sounded like something heavy being dragged along the floor.

Frowning now, he slowly walked the length of the room, looking in between the many banks of shelves as he did so. Every so often, he would stop and pause, to see if he could hear the sound again, but he heard nothing.

As he neared the back of the storeroom, he caught a glimpse of something between the last shelf and the wall. He got closer, and realized it was a large stone statue of an angel, staring at him through the space between the shelves. The Doctor looked at it disapprovingly. "I was wondering when you might show up. After all, a Time Lord and his TARDIS in one convenient location; what better place to find some easily-accessible time energy?"

He then leaned in closer, a smug look on his face. "Well, I can already tell you it won't work - the TARDIS is broken, and I've been so many places in different times that there's nowhere you could send me to get a decent amount of time energy. There's nothing here for you." With that, the Doctor blinked.

A scraping of heavy stone on concrete floor, and by the time he opened his eyes again, it was as if the statue had never been there at all. The Doctor shook his head as he left the storeroom; he highly doubted that that was the last time he would come across the Angels.


End file.
